


Man of many fears

by Deanpala



Series: Avatar Martin [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Corruption!Martin, Desolation!Martin, End!Martin, Eye!Martin, Flesh!Martin, Hunt!Martin, Lonely!Martin, M/M, Slaughter!Martin, Stranger!martin, Web!Martin, buried!martin, dark!Martin, spiral!martin, vast!Martin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deanpala/pseuds/Deanpala
Summary: Just a little collection of unconnected fics as Martin as an avatar if every fear
Series: Avatar Martin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023487
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	1. Hunt Martin

Jon can tell something is following him.

Everywhere he goes, he sees someone out of the corner of his eye. Things keep getting misplaced, moved by something, and every time he comes into work or back home, a fresh brewed cup of tea is waiting for him, just the way he likes it.

He’s tried all sorts of things to escape whoever’s following him. He takes a week off of work and goes abroad, not even wasting time packing or going home, or booking tickets ahead of time, in case he tips it off, but it simply doesn’t matter. At furthest it’s a few days behind.

He tries his best to ignore it, but he can’t shake the oppressive dread. 

It finally becomes impossible to ignore when he’s being mugged in an alley way, and someone drops down and murders his muggers. 

He tries to get away while they’re distracted, he really does, but he doesn’t even get two yards away before being tackled. They roll a few times, and when they stop Jon finds his wrists and himself pinned to the ground.

A boyish grin lights up above him.

“Martin? But I- we thought you died months ago? Wait, hold on, have you been following me this entire time?”

Martin’s smile widens and Jon can see an unnatural sharpness to his teeth.

“Course. I tried to forget about you but well... I couldn’t.”

Jon lets out a shaky relieved laugh.

“I- good lord you scared me, I thought you were going to kill me.”

Martin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a move to let him up, just keeps smiling, and anxiety twists in Jons stomach.

“You- you aren’t going to kill me, right?”

Martin lets out a little hmm of agreement.

“I was hunting you.”

Jon tenses.

“And you caught me.”

“Yes, suppose I did.”

“What does- what does that mean for me?”

“That I won, and you’re mine now.”

Martin gets off Jon at this, but doesn’t let go of his wrists until he picks him up and throws him over his shoulder, causing Jon to yelp.

“Wait, wait wait. If you, if you just keep me then... then the hunts over right? And there’s no fun in that s-so you should just let me go.”

Martin thinks over it for a second.

“You know what? Sure. When you escape, we can start over, but there’s not much point in me winning if I just keep letting you go, so your mine until you get away, and I’ll leave you plenty of opportunities, and when we reach a certain amount of time, that’ll be the end of the game.”

Jon shakes at this and closes his eyes tightly.

“When? And what, what happens, when the game ends?”

“Takes the fun out of it if you know how many times, you should fight just as hard each one. But, I figure, if I keep hold of you for a year or so, I’ll just keep you and save myself the work. No more catch and release.”

“And if I win? If I stay away for a year?”

“I’ll leave you alone, but you won’t.”


	2. Desolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was less making him the desolation and more reframing existing things into that context? So sorry about that. Anyway, enjoy.

Maybe I just thought it might hurt 

I don’t get to be angry? I don’t get to burn things?

—————-

The thing about Martin is he cares far to much. He sees potential where others don’t, and let’s the things around him suffer for the sake of a change that will never come.

And so he’s done. He isn’t going to get himself hurt and make petty comments at every person that so much as looks at Jon, because nothing could ever come from Jon. He’s happier without Martin anyway, he’s sure of it.

((He isn’t. He listens to the tapes, he hears the pining and how horrible the others treat him, and a part of him stops being cold, just for a moment, at the satisfaction. See, I brought someone joy. See, they’re miserable without me, when they mocked me for trying to be the peacekeeper.))

It hurts to be away from Jon, it hurts that he’s trying to get himself killed by Peter, but he knows what that means. He remembers caring for his mum, pining for Jon, how Tim seethed when Martin tried to make things better, and Martin KNOWS that the only true existing expression of love, is suffering. He loves Jon, and so he can prove it by not indulging in him. He thought he hated himself, but the fact that he is making someone else do the killing, that he’s drawing out his own suffering, is proof that he does love himself.

Or maybe he just wants to hurt Peter before it ends, and is waiting to get close enough. 

The thing about burns is, they’ve always been Martin’s least favorite type of pain. The cold in him feels right because you can go numb, and when the cold burns you, it’s almost thrilling in a way.

So that’s exactly what he is. Every time he sees someone from the archives, all it takes is a comment, and those carefully growing threads of connection between them snap. All support systems, all trust to share information, decisions and paths that could be taken, are destroyed.

Because he is tired. He is tired of hurting, of being a tool for others to use, and the thing is, he cared far to much. He knows every fact and thought about them, and he is hurting. The stinging burn of cold turns numb if you indulge it enough, so he lets his hurt flow out.

He can hear the arguing down stairs.

He lets out a breath and a smile, and the room grows colder.


	3. Stranger Martin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really proud of this one. Warning for this one being kind of heavy but I didn’t know how to tag it, so ask to tag I guess

The first time Martin meets her is the first time he realizes that his mother hates him. He will never admit it, not even to himself, but he KNOWS.

He’s wandering, trying to distract himself when he finds the taxidermy shop.

It seems empty at first, but something unfolds itself from a corner, and Martin lets out a yelp, piercing himself lightly on a bucks antlers as he jumps back.

“Well well well, what do we have here?”

“Um. Hi. Sorry just- just browsing.”

She frowns at him, and moves toward her from her corner. He can’t place it, but somethings wrong about the way she moves. It’s too wide, like each limb is moving itself wildly instead of being centered to one spot.

She rests a finger over the bleeding spot on his arm, and her face is suddenly smiling, though he didn’t see it move into one, it just... is now.

“Were you wanting to buy something?”

“Haha I uh- I’m- no thank you I don’t really... have room for taxidermy at home, or uh- or the money to spare.”

She laughs at this.

“Not them silly, and money is no issue, after all, you’ve already started the peeling process for us.”

“Sorry?”

“Here,” she says, pressing her finger into the bleeding spot, “you don’t quiet fit yourself do you? Wish you were anyone else, someone who’s name and general existence would be noticed and appreciated? Imagine wearing the same ratty coat your whole life, disgusting! And it’s hardly fair that everyone else gets a break from you when you’re so clearly sick of yourself is it?”

This is- this is bad. The entire way she’s acting and talking yes, but.

But Martin has just realized that she isn’t breathing.

He runs.

——————————- 

The second time he meets nikola, he’s desperately looking for a job.

“You could make it easier on yourself you know,” she says from behind him causing him to jump. “You could be someone older and more qualified, and I’d make sure they were just as handsome. In fact, you could be someone who doesn’t need to try and get a job, no more mum, wouldn’t that be fantastic?!”

“I’m- no, no thank you,” he says, his voice trembling but trying to be stern.

“Well then, maybe I could hire you! You’re so friendly, I doubt you’d have any issue convincing people to visit.”

“No.”

—————-

The thing that finally breaks him is Prentiss.

He goes missing for TWO WEEKS, and when he comes back, he realizes no one missed him. No one worried, and it genuinely seems like if Martin Blackwood dropped off the face of the world, no one would ever look for him. Jon and his mother at least would be happier for it.

He decides against mentioning where he’s been to the others. They’ll act sympathetic and sorry, like they care in the moment, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone suffers, and he can’t start deluding himself now.

Martin steals a statement form so that they know what to look out for later, and goes out to look for the only person who can offer him the chance at a better life.  
——————  
Jon is finding himself plagued by animals.

They keep finding their way to him every few weeks, disappearing, and being replaced by another one.

Honestly he sort of feels bad for assuming the dog got in because of Martin’s incompetence before when all of these ones manage to make it in to both the institute and his home.

He feels something twist in his gut at that. It’s been over a week since Martin came back and disappeared again, this time with no forewarning of sickness or anything.

Jon gets up and resolves that when he gets to work he’ll ask the others if they’ve talked to Martin lately.

“Captain!” He calls “breakfast!”

It’s unusual he’s having to call for him at all, he’s usually very snuggly.

He finally finds the captain in the corner doing... something. He’s shuttering strangely, and Jon notices a pile of sawdust by him.

Jon freezes. Something doesn’t feel right about this.

The captain shutters again, and this time, a part of his flesh falls off like it’s molting, and....

And Jon can see a human heart under it.

He shouts, frightened, and the captain looks at him in shock before bolting out the door, not to be seen again.

—————-

There is a mouse that lives in the archives.

At one point, someone visits and gives it a disdainful look.

“I rather hoped for more from you,” He says “pity.”

The mouse does not understand what this means, or why everyone else is suddenly in a panic. It understands English, mutterings of the name “Martin,” and that eventually, some of Martin’s things end up being stored in the archive.

It just doesn’t see what the big deal is is all.

Around a week after the others move his things from his home and into the archives, Martin reappears.

He brushes off their concerns and questions about where he’s been, and he sits back quietly. He makes tea for everyone but himself, he does his work, he allows himself to be the butt of the jokes without teasing back, and is overall.... useful. 

It goes on for a month before mutters start going around.

“This isn’t right he isn’t- I mean he was always a bit withdrawn but this feels different.”

“-never this much of a push over.”

“Were his eyes always that color?”

“-tea doesn’t taste the same-“

And another two weeks before they pin him down.

“What did you do with Martin?” Sasha demands.

“I don’t- don’t know what you’re talking about.” Martin says.

“Tell the truth,” Tim hisses “or I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Fine. What tipped you off? Was I too competent? Too likable?”

“Don’t you DARE talk about him like that,” Sasha says, as Jon swallows down a burning guilt.

“He was-“ Jon chokes out “he was more real not just- your kindness was clearly an act, an obligation.”

“Oh like you aren’t happy he’s gone, like you ever showed a hint of gratitude that he was in your life, any of you. You were what, colleges at most?”

Jon looses his ability to speak at this, and Tim shouts “shut up! I swear to god I’m going to kill you, What did you do with him, where is he?”

Martin smiles at him.

“How should I know? Never met the man myself, I just picked up the first free skin in circulation. Not very popular this one.”

“Does that mean he’s dead?” Sasha asks.

“In every way that matters.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Well, if he’s not wearing his skin, surely he’s wearing someone else’s, he’d be a whole new person by now. He could be anyone, probably doesn’t know who he is himself at this point.”

Martin’s smile twists into something cruel. He doesn’t have to answer these questions, but the answers make it sting that much more.

“But there is a chance?” Jon asks. “If he got his skin back, he could be him again?”

Martin suddenly looks like he’s drowning a bit, trying to keep his mouth shut but with garbled words spilling out.

The mouse decides to leave. It hadn’t wanted to be a person before, didn’t want to risk the scorn that came from it, but it is getting rather tired of being a mouse, and it thinks it’s ready to try something new.  
——————  
When No One meets Nikola again, it asks for a human skin much to her delight.

It doesn’t know it’s name, or why it came to Nikola, but it remembers being to big, to clumsy and unlovable, and so she becomes Chloe, five foot beautiful gymnast.

And it’s nice. She doesn’t feel like she takes up too much space or like she’s clumsy, and who can make friends immediately.

The problem is none of them last more than a week. The problem is they possibly never exist at all, and only liked her for her beauty, but they didn’t really know her, so he becomes Sean, who is strong but gentle, but he knows he is being used, so it becomes Sam, who is genius but knows it is only appreciated for its intelligence but not who it is as a person, so they become Aaron, who is funny, but knows everything is surface level, who becomes-

And on and on and on it goes, and the loneliness doesn’t fade, because as many friends it makes and as many people it is, no one likes it for who it is, because No One doesn’t even know who it is. It just moves from person to person, trying to become things without the traits no one had liked about No One before, trying to find what piece of itself it needs to cut out to out run the loneliness and... it can’t.

So it keeps changing skins and identities, until it sees someone who screams RIGHTNESS, both to himself AND itself.

So Danny follows his brother home.  
———————————-  
Tim is not expecting company when he hears the knock on his door.

He takes an extra minute to lounge on the couch before getting up, and he’s grateful for it, because it gives him a warning.

“Tim?” Comes the voice of his brother.

The blood drains from his face.

“Tim? It’s me. Open the door. Please? I just want to talk.” It says. 

“I miss you,” it says, voice bleeding with earnestness and pain.

He wants to hide. He wants to kill it. He wants to open the door and hug it. He wants to do all these things, and he is angry and terrified and a knife of grief twists in his gut.

He can’t deal with this. Not so soon after Martin.

He refuses to let this happen again.

Tim opens the door.

Danny almost stumbles into the room, and his face is one of pure relief and surprise at actually being let in.

Tim immediately tries to stab the thing pretending to be his brother, but it ducks out of the way and traps him, hugging him from behind and pinning his arms in place.

“Tim please, it’s me.”

“You are not Danny,” he seethes.

The thing takes in a hissed breath like it’s been hurt, and it’s grip loosens enough for Tim to break out of the hold.

“I’m- maybe not. I don’t- I didn’t know where else to go. I need your help, just let me talk. Please.”

Tim doesn’t want to let it, but he knows he can’t overpower it, and he’s curious.

“Alright. What do you mean ‘maybe not’ then?”

“I’m- I’m Danny. At least- I’m Danny now but... there’s something wrong? I’m- I know I had a lot of friends before, but there’s still this.... loneliness? Like it doesn’t fit somehow, it’s fake, and when I think of mum it’s the same too, because I can remember her, and how much she loved us, but the idea of her SCARES me somehow and- look, I don’t- I think I’m Danny, but it isn’t adding up, because I know how he’s supposed to be, I just know that when I saw you, I knew you were someone important to me, someone I could trust. And I mean ACTUALLY me, not just. Not Danny. And I don’t know what to do.”

Something about that, it shakes Tim to his core, and his anger dies down in the after shocks.

He looks into his little brothers face, and he realizes. The eyes aren’t his, but he can still recognize them.

Tim drops the knife.

“Martin?”

———————————-

The thing (Martin he reminds himself, that’s MARTIN, he’s FOUND him. After months of searching, he just came back on his own) seems confused by Tim’s manic energy.

“Sorry,” he says “where are we going again?”

“The Magnus institute,” he answers “we might be able to fix this, we saved your skin.”

“Seems kind of disgusting,” he mutters. “And you’re sure it’s mine?”

“No, I think you’re that other, third person in my life who’s been skinned. Of course it’s you, why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, I just- Martin feels like a small name, one that wants to be warm and happy. That doesn’t- it doesn’t feel like me,” Martin says, with a resigned sort of sadness.

Tim slows at this, then stops. It’s hard to see that look on his brothers face, and every second Martin wears his skin is like a blow to the heart. Really the sooner he gets out of it the better, he doesn’t need more reminders.

Still, he forces himself to take the face in his hands, and for a moment it feels like it could be either of them. It could be Danny or Martin.

“I’m sorry,” he says “if I ever made you feel small or cold, but I promise you that you will feel that way again. You will be warm and happy, and you will know that you’re loved if it kills me.”

Tears gather in Danny’s (Martin’s) eyes.

It feels like a promise. It feels like resolution, like closure.

It feels like goodbye.

He doesn’t say anything else to him after that until he’s back in his proper skin, and he takes the old one in his hands gently, like it’ll crumble to dust if he isn’t careful.

At least now he has something to bury.  
————————

Things change after that. Jon grows softer towards Martin, and they make more of an active effort to invite him to things, to make him feel like part of the team, but the damage is already done.

They keep finding people they don’t recognize at Martin’s desk. The hair changes color, the size, parts of his personality, all of it. He keeps adding and cutting parts of himself away, his favorite tea changes to what they like and goes on rotation, his favorite food, movies, books.

He used to write poetry. No one else in the archives is a poet, and only on the very best of days does he manage more that two words on a page.

The worst is when nothing changes. When he looks the same, but can’t say how old he is, what day he was born, his name.

On occasion, Tim will get panic attacks, because when he walks into the office, there will be two of someone, him or Jon or Sasha, and every time the new one insists that they’re really them, and Tim can’t tell the two apart, can only see Danny’s skin, Martin’s, and he’s scared Martin is going to loose it at one point and take his mistaken identity too far.

He doesn’t even seem to realize it’s a lie.

It scares him, when he’s aware of it. He changes so much now that it’s almost impossible to say what he looked like in the beginning. Everytime they mention a change he seems confused, like he’s ALWAYS been made of latex, like he’s always been short or skinny.

Sasha is the first one to notice it, that sometimes when you hug him, he is far to soft, and smells musty. It is only when Jon walks in on him throwing up hay that they realize why.

But they do their best to reassure him they love him anyway, because he’s still him, in every version. He changes and shifts into things that are on different levels of unrecognizable, but the one constant is how he loves them. When he teases as Tim, or awkwardly gives too stern demands to eat or rest as Jon while covering it up behind talk of proficiency, or obsessing over the facts of a problem to try and fix it as Sasha, these are all love languages that he borrows, but there is not a single trait that exists in only one person, and everyone contains multitudes, so whoever Martin ends up being, even if he doesn’t know who it is....

Well. They know all they need to about him already.

They know that they’ll love him, in every version, and that is enough.


End file.
